I wonder what Miss Mayhem would say to me,
if she saw the blood stains on my sheets?
She'd ask me: "what's the deal?"
Then hand me the bottled pills.
One by one as I go, slow and steady down my throat.
Hope these take me away,
I pray these ease my brain
YOU ARE READING
I'm Being Happy
PoetryThe screams will be slient, but blood bleeds loud. Blow your brains out.